


An Unexpected Thing

by GiantPurpleCephalopod



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiantPurpleCephalopod/pseuds/GiantPurpleCephalopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock must battle to keep his unexpectedly emerging primal side under control whilst making love to his Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, or hold any rights pertaining to the characters and/or universe contained therein. I do not intend to infringe upon anyone else's rights or to cause any offence by my use of aforementioned universe and characters in this work of fan fiction. 
> 
> Warning: This work contains explicit content of a homoerotic nature. If this will offend or distress you, please click the 'back' button now. On a lighter note, my grammar is also suspect - you can similarly escape the horror of bad grammar by clicking the 'back' button if you believe this will offend you ;)
> 
> Please assume that this piece is set prior to the events that transpired in the episode 'Amok Time'.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was an unfortunate consequence of rank that if two senior Starfleet officers had fallen into romantic entanglement they must keep such a relationship a matter of the utmost discretion. Therefore, any sudden changes in the behaviour of one or both of the aforementioned romantically entangled officers that could arouse suspicion must be avoided. In this particular case, then, it was in the interest of both that Captain James T. Kirk continue flirting and making love eyes at every pretty female humanoid from one end of the quadrant to the other, so as to continue the appearance of his still being unattached - and most certainly not in any way romantically entangled with his First Officer, Commander Spock.

Something neither of them had expected, however, was the way in which Spock would be affected by having to watch these interactions.

Jealousy would have been natural, though shameful for a Vulcan to admit to. It was not, however, jealousy that Spock felt when he watched each new admirer sidle up to _his_ Captain, perhaps gently touching Jim’s arm or his shoulder and gazing up at his handsome face with their adoring eyes.

No - when Spock impassively watched on as Jim smiled back, his eyes and manner soft, gentle, charming, he felt many things - but not jealousy.

A full-blooded Vulcan would likely have lacked the vocabulary to classify all the different emotions they would not wish to admit to feeling, but Spock had a human Mother, and was therefore far better educated on such matters.

He acknowledged experiencing a degree of amusement, watching them try so hard with their coy looks and un-subtle innuendoes, not a one of them ever understanding how hopeless their cause. None of them ever truly grasped how they paled into insignificance beside Jim’s brilliance- like tiny moths fluttering about his golden flame.

Spock also found it satisfying - no, gratifying - to see Jim’s magnificence so universally and deservedly recognised. Not just in terms of his Captain’s aesthetic appeal, which, as far as Spock was concerned, was unequalled, but also in terms of his charm, bravery and goodness - a goodness that rivalled even that of the fabled Medusans. This was not only for the confirmation of the rightness in his choice of mate that this gave Spock, but because, though he was by no means an insecure man, if there was one person who sometimes struggled to see the true wonder of Captain James T. Kirk it was Jim himself.

These feelings, however, were predictable enough to the logical alien. What _had_ been unexpected was the deep, animalistic surge of lust he was engulfed by every time that it happened. Something about knowing that these other people wanted Jim, and they couldn’t have him, but Spock could … it triggered something buried, something _primal_ in the placid, reserved Vulcan.

Now they were alone together in the Captain’s Cabin, the evening’s formal diplomatic function finally concluded. Once Spock might have considered such an event tedious- if tedium was a concept the Vulcan could fully grasp- but no longer. Tonight had been one long, drawn out incident of foreplay, and finally - finally! - Spock could indulge his carnal desires.

As soon as the door _swooshed_ softly closed behind them he pulled Jim into his arms. Closing his eyes, Spock buried his face in his Captain’s short, silky hair, then dropped lower, to nuzzle into the crook of Jim’s neck. He inhaled deeply, Jim’s spicy cologne and the human’s own enticing musk sending a bolt of tingling heat straight to his groin. Within him something dark, something lustful, was stirring.

When he spoke, Spock’s normally smooth voice was gravelly and rough with need. “Every time that diplomat’s aide put her hand on you it served to fuel my need for you. Now I am aflame, consumed by an inferno of desire.”

The Vulcan felt Jim wind strong fingers into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him down for an insistent, hungry kiss. Spock’s own hands began wandering down Jim’s body as the kiss deepened, his lips parting for Spock’s demanding tongue, offering up the soft warmth of his mouth for conquest. The lingering taste of champagne, unpleasantly bitter to the Vulcan’s delicate palate was more than made up for by the sweetness of his mate’s yielding. On the bridge Spock was the subordinate, but never in the bedroom. That was another thing that had been unexpected, but mutually gratifying.

“I thought you’d like that,” Jim panted, when they were finally forced to come up for air. His hazel eyes - such an enchantingly exotic colour, the like of which Spock had never seen on Vulcan - were clouded with ardour, and Spock could feel the human’s rising passion blending and merging with his own through their touching skin. That … part … of him that had awakened, lurking in the back of his mind like a dark and sentient cloud of smoke, urged him to push Jim down on the bed, to take him _now, hard_ and _fast._ He knew, both from the insistent press of Jim’s trouser-confined erection against his thigh and from the thoughts and feelings flowing freely between them that Jim was willing. His golden Captain was indescribably aroused by the thought of submitting to Spock’s superior strength - eager to offer himself up to the violence of a Vulcan’s true nature, utterly unafraid of any possible bodily harm. That other part of Spock _surged_ forward, all but seizing control. He could practically hear the scream of tearing cloth as Jim’s uniform would be ripped to shreds. He could taste the bright, iron-rich tang of his Captain’s strikingly red blood as his teeth would sink into the exposed golden, sweat-slicked skin, marking him, so that all might know that James T. Kirk belonged to Spock of Vulcan, and to none other.

Spock was snapped out of the intense fantasy by the sound of Jim’s voice, as his mate pressed up against his chest, rocking their hips together tantalisingly as he stretched his neck and lifted his chin to punctuate his provocative words with teasing licks and nibbles to the Vulcan’s sensitive ear lobe.

“You should have heard the naughty things she was whispering in my ear …”

Spock blinked. For a heartbeat he teetered on the knife’s edge of falling into temptation. Then he blinked again, and, mentally gathering himself, forced the other back, compartmentalising him - for now.

Spock slipped his fingers beneath Jim’s shirt, ghosting over the satiny skin of his lower back before reaching lower to squeeze and knead the firm, generous swell of his buttocks. A few moments later he slipped one long, dexterous finger into the tight confines of Jim’s trousers, trailing it down the alluring crease between his buttocks and then back up again, savouring the tremor that shook the Captain’s body in its wake. “Tell me what she said,” Spock ordered, his voice low and sultry. He experienced Jim’s slight feeling of disappointment where his finger moved across that soft, soft skin - but Jim could not possibly understand what it was he was asking for. But Spock was a good mate, a devoted mate, and resolved to make it up to him.

“She told me that - mmm.” Jim’s head tilted back, his eyelids fluttering closed and his his hips rocking forward as Spock brought his other hand around to gently cup and palm his Captain’s erection through his trousers. “She wished me to lick her from head to toe- and that she then wished to return the favour.”

“Is that what you want, Jim? To be licked?” Spock asked.

“Yes,” Jim answered instantly, his strong hands clenching in the back of Spock’s blue dress shirt. “Yes, please.”

“As you wish,” The Vulcan replied gently, once more capturing his lips in a kiss.

It was the work of but a moment to have their shirts off - though Spock insisted on neatly folding and placing them on a chair, unable to suppress the memories of his earlier fantasy as the slinky golden material of Jim’s shirt ran through his fingers. His Captain was now moulded to his back, skin-to-skin, nuzzling and kissing the back of his neck encouragingly, a tiny frisson of excitement running through him as he sensed the direction of Spock’s thoughts.

The Vulcan shook his head slightly to clear it. Turning suddenly, he scooped the human into his arms - something he had never done before - with one arm in the crook of Jim’s knees and the other wrapped snuggly about his back. The Captain’s surprise-turned-delight washed over him, and Spock knew he had chosen well. Jim’s arms came to rest about his neck, and they kissed passionately as Spock carried him over to the bed, where he lay his mate down upon the cool, smooth sheets.

Spock climbed on the bed too; bent over his Captain to methodically - lovingly - explore the well-known and beloved ridges of Jim’s rippled abdomen with his lips, teeth and tongue. He slowly, torturously licked his way up Jim’s chest, using broad, lingering swipes of his tongue, unexpectedly breaking his journey to torment a nipple, tugging and nipping with his teeth. Jim’s back arched and he hissed in mingled pain and pleasure.

It had not taken the perceptive Vulcan long to learn to play Jim’s body as skillfully as he played his lyre. He knew all the spots where the human was most sensitive, unhurriedly making his way to each and every one, until Jim was reduced to little more than a whimpering, writhing puddle, pleading incoherently. Spock smirked against his Captain’s sweat-slicked golden skin - an expression he would most certainly deny, should Jim catch sight of it. He felt a decidedly un-Vulcanlike pride in his ability to so undo his mate, a pride he felt echoed from that primitive part of him deep within his mind.

Deftly removing the remainder of their clothing, Spock rearranged them on the bed. The Vulcan sat with his legs stretched out, propped not quite upright against the pillows. Jim lay atop him, straddling his chest, his luscious rear in Spock’s face. His own face was buried deep in Spock’s crotch. The Vulcan rumbled softly with pleasure as his ample erection was engulfed in the warm, moist cavern of Jim’s mouth. His Captain sucked lightly, golden head bobbing up and down as he plied his tongue with exquisite skill. It was simply superb - Jim’s adroitness for fellatio never ceased to amaze and delight the Vulcan.

Redirecting his focus to his own task, Spock spread Jim open wide with his thumbs and admired the tiny, starburst opening there. That animalistic, primal part of him shivered with excitement at the sight of it. Slowly, carefully, Spock stuck out his tongue and gently touched the flat of it to his mate’s entrance. The Captain moaned and shivered, sucking harder. For a moment Spock closed his eyes in bliss - but Vulcan willpower allowed him to savour the sweet sensations inspired by Jim’s mouth and tongue without becoming distracted. Jim tasted faintly of regulation bodywash, the slight chemical tang of it sharp on Spock’s sensitive tongue. He slowly teased the tight ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue, delighting in Jim’s little twitches and the hitches in his breath and the soft, mewling little moans that bubbled from his throat. He kept a firm grip on his Captain’s hips, prohibiting him from instinctively squirming away from the tickle. He alternated licking and sucking at the human’s quivering hole with gently pressing his tongue inside ever-so slightly, just a little bit further every time.

Spock could feel the hot, slightly slick press of Jim’s erection against his torso. When the Vulcan’s ministrations finally caused him to unravel, Jim arched his back like a cat in heat and _moaned_ as he ejaculated in a hot, sticky rush down Spock’s chest.

Were Spock human it would have been all but impossible not to follow - as he had reached his peak Jim had both sucked harder and swallowed Spock down further into his throat, bringing him right to the cusp of orgasm.

But Vulcans had greater control over their bodies - even their throbbing erections - than humans and Spock did not allow himself release just yet. His plans for the evening were far from over. The savage part of him eagerly agreed.

Gently urging his orgasm-befuddled mate up onto his hands and knees, Spock slipped out from under him, scooping a generous dollop of Jim’s slick ejaculate from his chest. Realising what Spock meant to do as the Vulcan assumed a kneeling position behind him, Jim made a contented noise of assent, wriggling his rear a little as if to urge his lover to hasten. His opening was already nicely relaxed and slicked with spit, and it twitched invitingly as Spock slipped two semen-lubed fingers inside.

Spock carefully and methodically worked the ejaculate-come-lubricant inside his Captain - he patiently waited until the human was clenching around him and eagerly thrusting back on his fingers. Jim’s toes curled in the sheets as Spock brushed his fingers over his Captain’s prostate.

“Are you ready, Jim?” he asked, scissoring his fingers gently, gaging the muscle’s give.

“Yes,” Jim answered, looking back over his shoulder at Spock, his golden hair in disarray, darkened with sweat. “Do it now, Spock - don’t wait!”

Spock allowed himself to smile, seeing Jim’s own eyes sparkle - adding to the haze of post-orgasmal pleasure in them - at the sight of it.

“Of course, Jim” he said softly, using his hand to guide him as he pushed forwards.

At first Spock kept his pace even, rhythmic. A Vulcan mind’s absolute control over the body allowed him to maintain his erection almost indefinitely, in spite of the intense pleasurable stimulation he was experiencing. Soon enough his careful thrusting had Jim aroused once more, the evidence of his condition bobbing up and down below his belly as the Captain’s body was gently rocked back and forth.

Jim craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the Vulcan. “Spock,” he panted softly. “Spock - you can let go. I’ll be alright. Let go.”

Spock growled softly, shaking his head, his hands reflexively gripping hard at his pliant mate’s hips. That subversive, animalistic element within him flared - for a moment the urge to cease reining in his strength, to bring all of his physical superiority to bear in thoroughly owning, claiming, dominating his mate, as would a Vulcan warrior of old all but overcame him. Spock shook his head again, forced that dark element back down where it belonged. The disparity in their bodily strengths was too great.

“No, Jim,” he answered softly, though he did increase his pace, altering the angle of his thrusts slightly too, each one precisely calculated to give the maximum pleasurable stimulation, ever so carefully increasing depth and force to just how he knew Jim liked it best. He knew he had succeeded in this endeavour by the way Jim’s breathing became heavier, rivers of sweat running down his heaving sides, his head hanging and his eyes closed. Spock shared the sensations his Captain was experiencing.

He shared too, his Captain’s emotions - the overwhelming flood of astonishment that he, Jim Kirk, should have been so fortunate as to find someone so selfless, so steadfastly loyal and caring - so _loving._

Spock leaned down, his chest flush with Jim’s back, and pressed a reverential kiss to Jim’s shoulder blade. “It is I who is fortunate,” Spock panted softly, his hips never stilling. He reached down to gently take Jim in hand, stroking in careful counterpoint to his thrusts. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against Jim’s sweat-damp skin.

Jim gulped audibly. “I’m going to … now, Spock, now!”

As strong muscles clenched and spasmed around him, and a tumultuous wave of shared ecstasy crashed over him, Spock allowed himself to reach orgasm as well. Clasping his Captain, his mate, his _Jim_ , tight in his arms he lowered them both to the mattress, showering Jim’s shoulders and the back of his neck with kisses as they rode out the orgasmal aftershocks and tremors still locked tightly together.

When he finally pulled away, his softening erection slipping free of Jim’s well-used, relaxed opening Spock could not help but look down and survey - with an immense feeling of satisfaction that permeated all parts of him, primal or otherwise - the delectable sight that was Spock’s own ejaculate dribbling thickly from his mate’s entrance. The Vulcan lifted an eyebrow contentedly, the corner of his lip curling upwards as he received Jim’s drowsy thought that he had, indeed, been thoroughly claimed.

“Such an unexpected thing,” Spock murmured softly to himself as Jim drifted off to sleep in his arms. “-but one which I would not trade for anything in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Poo! I suck at endings :P


End file.
